He Won't Move On Without Him
by Persuasive Sabotager
Summary: When Thorin Oakenshield died in The Battle of Five Armies he didn't pass on into the halls of his ancestors, instead his spirit was tied to the earth and his soul was tied to watching over Bilbo Baggins. Unable to communicate with the living Thorin is forced to watch Bilbo live on through the rest of his life. This just covers those years. Slight Bagginshield? Thorin/Bilbo
**Hello people!**

 **So... words, stuff, randomness, just read my word vomit already!**

 **I know that this is short but whatever, I hope you enjoy it anyway. Its my first posted fic so be nice. Yeah? Or not whatever do what you want, get a tattoo, go on a spontaneous road-trip to LA, just live and do something crazy or boring just do whatever.**

 **Anywaaaay... I will update this story once or twice a week it just depend on how chaotic my life is at the time.**

 **Disclaimer : I own nothing. Nadda. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Other synonyms for nothing ect... ect... ect...**

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 **After he had died** on the battle field slain by a mortal wound delivered by Azog the Defiler Thorin Oakenshield did not pass on into the halls of his ancestors instead by someone outward force of will he remained as nothing but an invisible spirit drifting among those that remained alive unable to communicate with them at all.

He had merely existed in an in between state of presence that had quite honestly frustrated him to no end. He had been forced to watch his friends and family bury him and his two sister-sons.

He had been unable to do anything but observe in wretched guilt and near emotional agony as his sister Dis came to the Lonely Mountain and grieved by the the sides of her sons graves for nearly a fortnight all the while unable to comfort her.

He had watched his cousin Dain become King Under the Mountain and those most loyal Dwarves who had been brave enough to join him on a suicidal quest to slay a dragon and win back there home struggle to fit back into Dwarven society.

Their fourteenth shares of the treasure had made them Lord's in their own right and yet though they were able they had trouble coming to turns with the fact. He had never felt more broken than when Dwalin his life long friend and cousin refused to take his share of the treasure and instead set off back to the Blue Mountain's with his sister when she returned.

But even those many broken peaces inside of his bodiless spirit had shattered and burned to naught but ash when he watch his Burglar, his Hobbit and One, Bilbo Baggins leave Erebor to return to the Shire and his cozy little Hobbit Hole there.

He had wept at the thought of his Hobbit leaving the Lonely Mountain and setting off to a place that the Company could not at that time follow him and though Gandalf had accompanied him he had worried for his safety for though he was dead Bilbo was still alive and if he had any wish other than that he could have spared his sister-sons from their early deaths it was that Bilbo would never meet his own.

He had stood on Erebor's battlements staring after his Burglar until he was but a speck of dust in the distance thinking about all he had never gotten to say to him and about all the things he still wanted to say to him but couldn't.

And it had only been his lost thought of being trapped in his current state of ghost like being forever without being able to at least watch over Bilbo himself that had drove him to suddenly sprint after Bilbo and Gandalf, ripping himself away from his home the place that had been his birth and death.

It hadn't taken him long to catch up to them as he seemed to move much faster in his new form but once he did he felt something in himself bond itself to Bilbo in a way that it had not had the chance to do while he was alive, and he knew that in choosing to follow him and leave Erebor he had tied himself to staying at Bilbo's side until the Hobbit's death and perhaps even after.

He didn't know how he knew this but he did and he couldn't find it in himself to mind it in the least. Even if he could not defend Bilbo from harm personally he would at least keep watch over him as best he could anyways.

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 **And he did.**

He followed Bilbo back to the Shire back through the Mirkwood home of the Elven King Thranduil, back over the Misty Mountain's this time with no unpleasant unexpected Stone Giants fighting or surprise drop in visits to Goblin Town, he even stayed strong with minimal annoyance when they stayed in Rivendell for several weeks, and finally to the boarder lands that marked the edge of the green peaceful land that was the Shire.

He watched as Bilbo had bid Gandalf farewell acting just as stubborn as ever when he held himself back from embracing the Wizard as he knew the Hobbit wanted to and he walked along beside him sometimes slightly ahead or behind him unseen as they made their way through the rolling green hills that Bilbo called his home.

It was a peaceful land to be sure and he felt the slightest bit more relaxed as he listened to Bilbo sing some of the songs the Company had sung at night during the Quest under his breath with a sad but somehow also happy smile on his face as he did so.

The first time he had come to the Shire - which now seemed to be the lifetime that it was ago - he had gotten impossibly lost even though he had started out in the early morning sure that it would have given him sufficient time to find his destination even with his unfortunate handicap of a dreadful sense of direction when about ground but now with Bilbo leading the way through the confusing rabbit warren that consisted of an unmeasurable amount of twists and turns he found that there was and odd pattern to it all.

Or perhaps he was just found it so because he was in good company even if said company could not hear or see him and was completely unaware of his presence at all or even that he had recently found himself to surprising less prone to frustration and his Durin Temper and renown brooding.

Either way it was quite enjoyable even if he found himself wanting the easy conversation the two of them had begun to fall into towards the end of the Quest. But it was not to be.

It was yet another regret of his that he wished he did not have nor had cause to ever have to begin with.

But it was to late for him to have such thoughts, after all what had been done has been done and no one or any being or object of power could fix all the pain he had cause so many people. He nearly cursed every Valor he knew of for binding him in such a useless state when they finally came up to the long unseen Bag End only to see that there were quite a few dozen Hobbits milling about on his lawn auctioning and buying his things.

If he had been capable of letting the living beings hear him as he railed and raged at them for disrespecting his Burglar's things cursing in every language he knew - and he knew quite a few - he would have had them all either faint from shock, running from fear or blushing from his more creative curses that would have quite honestly made his own father blush red as a ruby and his mother shear off his braids should they have heard some of them.

It was quite fortunate that they didn't because he was quite proud of Bilbo's own telling off and curses - most of which he was sure he had picked up from the Company as some of them were in Khuzdul - all of which made him want to applaud the Hobbit for his somewhat viscous cheek and barbs.

However, his good mood evaporated entirely at the auctioneer's question of who he was to Bilbo and then he felt his very soul shake like a cave in and crack a bit more at Bilbo's reply knowing that Bilbo's _"He was my friend"_ was more than what he said.

The tears that had been in his eyes and the way his small slightly calloused and dirty fists had clenched near broke it the rest of the way.

All he had wanted to do right then was sweep his Hobbit into his arms and never let him go.

He once again cursed his Maker for what seemed to be the millionth time since reawakening in his new form of being for cursing him to not being able to even let Bilbo know that he was there watching over him.

He followed Bilbo inside his home and watched sadly as tears nearly flooded his eyes and his breath threatened to turn into sobs as he wandered around his now nearly empty home looking at it all with a distant look in his eyes as if he were not seeing what was in front of him but instead it was as if her were deep inside of a memory he had long wished he had forgotten.

It hurt to think them but when he saw Bilbo reach down to pick up a portrait of a lovely looking Hobbit woman that seemed to have a great resemblance to him and smile wistfully at it even as he hung it back up on the wall next to another portrait of a male Hobbit that looked even more like Bilbo, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps his Burglar was stronger than he thought even as he looked so close to breaking.

But he didn't break not then, not when he spent the next several months slowly buying back each and everyone of his belonging from the Hobbit's that had previously bought them before he had put a stop to the auction, and nor did he break in the coming years after.

He came close to it many times but the arrival of his nephew Frodo coming into his life seemed to help him heal just a bit more even if he was sure the gaping hole he knew was in Bilbo's chest at losing him would never truly fill all the way up again and fade away or be forgotten.

 **TO BE CONTINUED**

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So leave a review and tell me what you think so far. I wasn't sure if I should make this into a OneShot or not, but in the end I decided to just go with writing it out into chapters or some.

Leave a review, comment, talking to me, like it follow it or whatever.

I will try to update this story at least once a week maybe twice it just depends on whats going on in my life at the moment.

Peace! ;p

Persuasive Sabotager


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